Loss and Gain
by FreezePride
Summary: Characters: Xehanort (Xemnas), Even (Vexen) I was asked about what I thought would have happened to Even if, rather than being saved by Ventus, Ienzo had been killed. I couldn't help but have some major FEELZ over this. EDIT: I just added in a chapter 2 about how Aeleus would have reacted. Please enjoy!
1. Chapter 1

Even had not stopped moving in what seemed like a few days now.

Yes, normally, his work did consume him, distracting him from most situations, tearing him away from nearly all emotional connections, but there was a deadened quality to his eyes as he wrote, as he read, as he studied. They did not quite seem to realize that people were around him, or that time was passing continually. They did not comprehend the passing of light to darkness and back again with the glorious sunrise and fall. They only seemed to comprehend motion, study and science.

He did not speak much anymore. It was one of the first warnings that something was going terribly awry. He no longer jibed or nagged or ordered and complained. It had only been a few lonely days, but he had hardly said a word and to the other apprentices of the castle, this was not only rare, it was unnatural. The halls of Ansem's castle without the ringing, jarring voice of Even to keep things in check was no longer itself anymore, it was haunted.

Braig had managed to get a rise out of him, in the only way that the one eyed guard had deemed suitable.

"He wasn't even your son!" He had sneered. He made such a good show of his arrogance, Dilan almost forgotten that he had heard him sobbing in the bathroom not two days prior. On any normal occasion, Even would have lashed out at such a blatant disregard, not only for his emotions but also their status difference. Braig had wanted it, longed for it, some semblance of noisy normalcy among all of this quiet chaos. He wanted to hear Even shriek and rant and go on for far longer than necessary about propriety.

He had not expected that blank stare, those empty eyes, that momentary, pregnant pause when one could almost hear the thrum of blood beyond their very flesh.

"I know." He answered, neither solemnly nor carefully, but the awkwardness in his voice was unmistakable. He cast his glance around quickly, as though just having realized where he was after waking in a foreign bed. With a jittery sigh, he exited the commons for his labs, retreating to a cold sanctuary and millions more scientific journals to plunge into. Night had fallen again before Even had a chance to notice it. He really didn't notice much of anything between the flipping of pages, the hiss of bubbling chemicals, and the harsh glow of an overhead light.

Which meant that Xehanort had little to no trouble finding his way in unnoticed. He stood before Even, the other man's poison green eyes all but glued to the text before him, when he would withdraw from it in a sudden flurry of motion to attend to the experiment beside him. His fingers were jittery, his calculations turning sloppy and unfocused, but he didn't seem to notice. His wide eyes simply didn't see.

"Even." The fellow apprentice greeted. The man in question jumped, sending his pencil flying. Oddly enough, he did not grumble or moan about the interruption; he picked up his pencil and took a deep, shaky breath.

"Xehanort." He greeted with a speedy nod before turning to walk away once again. The young man caught him by his slender arm and pulled him back, not at all surprised to feel how he had thinned, how rapidly he had wasted away beneath his heavy white coat.

"He's gone now." Xehanort dug to the root of the problem where no one else quite dared to step, fearing for a reaction which would shatter the fragile world which the apprentices had built up until this point, their glass walls modeled and reinforced with a lack of guidance from their supposed 'Master'. Even reached out, taking hold of a small pair of protective lab goggles, mundane and yellowed with use after all these years. He stretched them absentmindedly between his slender fingers.

"He wore these, you know. They were too big for his small head, they used to slip down his nose." Even held his breath. Xehanort waited patiently.

A painfully dry sob wracked his thin frame as he seemed to do his damnedest to hold himself upright, to deny it had happened to begin with, or that it was persisting and continuing. He did not cry, could not cry: the shock was too fresh, the wound too new and his tears could only be reflected in the absent hope that this was all a nightmare. A whispering flow of words which sounded oddly like, 'My fault' as they escaped his thin lips. The overhead light was not forgiving, a stark shadow was cast upon the scientist's face, showing every hour's lack of sleep in deep and forbidding contrast.

Xehanort watched him, his golden eyes pensive, patient and ohsovery careful, but not comforting. He leaned forward, drawing the apprentice close in what might have been a loving grasp, embracing him not unlike a vice, and murmuring smoothly in silken words, "You're right."

Even went absolutsely rigid in response, his breath caught in his throat. The other man held him fast, feeling that he was about to give way and pass out after days of mistreating and malnourishing his body and mind. "But I can bring him back."

He ended in an imploring hiss, absolutely sure of his chances now. "Side with me."


	2. Chapter 2

Dilan had not expected this.

The training grounds did not even look remotely as they once did. The dummies were no where to be found and unsurprisingly, the shards of their broken wood was a testament to their fate. The ground, the stones, the very earth beneath his feet seemed to have been punching through the surface as if absolutely, desperately, unreasonably enraged. The walls were eschew. This was quite a feat, considering that these were, in fact, stone walls that he was looking at. They were not supposed to be so curved, so clenched and terribly broken as though they had been ripped from a dream, a nightmare. All weapons on the shattered floors, utterly useless in the wake of the scene.

He had seen Aeleus enter. Could he possibly have caused this abomination? It was not possible, not even with the power of darkness, he reflected. No one could wield that sort of might with such precision and control this early on after the darkness set in. Regardless of that, Aeleus would never allow something of that nature to enter his soul. Three days had gone by and he had yet to see the man. Now this?

Dilan was amazed, horrified, and right back to being stunned to the degree that he could not have possibly noticed the man in question standing silently to his side. Then again, perhaps it was not the shock after all; Aeleus was a man of few words, fewer sentiments.

Dilan gave a start when he finally spotted the man. "What happened?" He asked in an urgent undertone. "Where have you been?"

Aeleus did not look at him. He did not even bother to cast his glance away, only managing to stare blankly forward. There was a particularly wild look to the worn, ragged nature of his clothing which was usually kept so pristinely neat, so politely displayed as though his duties could not possibly be more important to him.

"Aeleus." Dilan repeated, his tone becoming an urgent, fear filled hiss. He reached out to grasp his shoulder, to shake some sense back into those usually so focused royal blue eyes.

It was the last thing he did.

Physical pain is something tangible. It tastes like iron, it feels like weakness and it's easily ignored, shoved into the white noise of battle, of training. Physical pain is the test which all guardians endure, almost as a guarantee. It's what a fighter is expected to be able to stave off with a makeshift cocktail of adrenaline and pure, honest desperation. It hurt, yes, but not enough. No, it was never enough to stop him.

This new pain was something far different, far worse. It was a shock, a numbness, horrifying even as it left him awe-struck. It could not possibly be true. It could not.

It would mean that he had failed.

Aeleus had promised Ienzo that he would protect him, that he would never let anything happen to him. He would defend that child to the end. He had used his strength, his power, his expertly honed training for the good of the people thus far. He had protected them from the evils which were slowly but surely seeping from the cracks of the basement, in between half finished discoveries in documents, within the mysteriously pooled and collected liquids of the labs, the glowing test tubes, and the empty promises which were whispered in Master Ansem's ear.

He did not say a word, for what concern of it was his? He was here to protect Ienzo, to protect his family. He had made that overwhelmingly clear. His reasons were his own, and they had started an entire decade before, but that was no concern of Ansem's either. He already knew after all.

But life was such a fragile thing. It was so ephemeral, so easily lost track of. So small and weak.

Every passing breath brought new pain, every new strike of pain brought more rage. The sadness, the anger, the denial, it all seemed to bleed into one searingly bright, clear new emotion that did not need sense or words. He was responsible. Every single individual in this castle was responsible, he thought, his fist tightening, the blood on his knuckles tapping neat stains on to the stone floor. The heavy fall of his boots could only be going to one place. Aeleus knew he was there.

Xehanort had not been expecting an interruption. To his credit, he did not jump as the door creaked on it's hinges, opening gently. His back was turned, still staring pitilessly at Even as the man shivered with emotion, refusing with all his will to look into his counterpart's golden eyes, to see the remorseless blame which he had imposed upon himself. The white haired apprentice gave a soft sigh of annoyance after a moment, lowering his arm and turning with a flourish to face whoever the newcomer was.

Of course, that was the last thing he did.

Aeleus grabbed him by the throat, making no effort to pause, give warning or reason as his massive hand wrapped around the other man's slender neck with little to no effort. Gripping tightly, Xehanort hardly had time enough to scream, gasp or even gargle before he felt himself lifted. The act of clawing and scratching was not something which he had thought to do before he was in the act itself, kicking and wriggling for all his worth (which was a great deal, considering his future plans), but it was quite futile. It dawned on him his thoughts swirling dangerously, as he felt himself being hoisted yet higher that Aeleus had no intention of choking him to death. Those merciless eyes, that stoic expression had little to no patience for such a personal act. Xehanort saw the lab table far too late.

Even watched in wide-eyed silence as Aeleus slammed the other apprentice on to the surface. Again, and again and again. It was almost in time to the thrum of a heartbeat, he reflected dizzily, his hands wrapping around his frail torso, an instinctive act of useless self defense. Again and again, he could not close his eyes, he could not look away, not even when Xehanort stopped kicking, stopped scratching, and with a sickening crunch, stopped being. He couldn't tear his eyes away from that doll-like form, that toy and sham of what life once was, what it would eventually become. He did not even blink when Aeleus tossed the broken body aside and looked up.

Directly at him.

And all at once, it suddenly seemed right. As Aeleus stepped forward noiselessly, over the dead apprentice towards Even, it seemed like this is predictably, morbidly appropriate. His hands, his body shivering again, the scientist knew he had earned this. This was precisely how the subtle force which idiots called 'karma' worked, a force which he could only justify now as 'loss and gain'. Ienzo was lost. This was his repayment.

"I deserve it." Even all but rasped, his voice clenched with fear, with pain and with the broken sob that then followed and threatened to overpower his speech. "It was my fault. I am sorry. I tri-" And finally his throat closed off into the shallow, fearful breaths of a rabbit watching as a hunter approached.

He watched the hand raise, the blood dripping from his fingertips and decided that he would leave this world exactly the way he had lived in it, eyes wide open, observing until the end, but he had not expected what followed.

Strong arms wrapped around him, hugged him close. "He devoured Ienzo like a beast. He died like one." Even felt the words rumbling within the man's chest before he could even say he heard them. He felt the truth, yet couldn't possibly justify it. His mind did not have time to comprehend. No, he could not possibly even think past the pounding of the other man's heart and how sickeningly it matched the rhythm of a man being bludgeoned to death against a table. There was a striking warmth to Aeleus's body, which contrasted almost comically to the stickiness of the blood on his hands. Even passed out then and there.


End file.
